“I've become the Orson Welles of the record industry. People want to take me to lunch, but nobody wants to finance the picture...I keep hoping that when I make a record, I'll be asked to make another one. I keep hoping that if I can make a series of three records, then I can progress and do different things each time. But when I have to get it up once every 10 years... it's a tough way to work." – Scott Walker, 1995.

A lot of internet and media buzz has been made of the new Scott Walker record, The Drift. For once, it’s undeniably justified. Walker’s first in 11 years is a desolate, devastating, overwhelming listen. His quivering but gorgeous croon floats like a poltergeist over meticulously arranged and produced guitars, bass, drums, strings and electronics that wait in the shadows until all are summoned in explosively alarming cacophony. At once a period of our time – industrial and paranoid – The Drift references ancient motifs through lyric and harmony, proving that the past can come back to haunt. But, full disclosure: take these words only at face value, I’ve only listened once.

Looking at the quote above, it’s not surprising that Walker doesn’t have big business backing his solo albums. Can people really handle this kind of art more often than every decade? How much of this can we truly embrace without becoming, dare I say, morbid? Also, would Walker be considered a visionary and his records masterpieces if we’re reminded and reexamine on a regular basis? Personally, it’ll take at least a listen a year to unravel at least part of this. But, yeah, if they were to come every year, I’d be listening.